


The Tale of Two Mysteries

by J_Amethyst



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Internet Famous, Lucas is internet famous, Lucas may or may not think Eliott is a sexy creepy guy, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Music, Musicians, Poor Lucas feels like he has been wronged by everybody, Self-Discovery, Singing, Strangers to Lovers, it'll make sense I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:02:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28109016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_Amethyst/pseuds/J_Amethyst
Summary: Lucas and Eliott have never met, and yet, the world tells a story of a love that came to be through words. It was nothing more than a fable, passed down the generations as a lesson on conquering fears.Until one Christmas, everything changes. Whispers ofThe Tale of Two Mysteriesbegin to unfold, but it’s not real. It’s just a stupid little story, a fuel of baseless hope, something for ignorant children to believe in.It was never meant to come true.Or, where Lucas and Eliott write a song together despite not knowing who the other is, and the world watches them fall in love.
Relationships: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant
Comments: 26
Kudos: 58
Collections: SKAM HOLIDAY EVENT 2020





	1. Étoile

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome aboard the train of some sweet Elu goodness! This is completely self-indulgent, and what I like to call the "hey-this-is-still-a-christmas-fic-because-I-mentioned-christmas-lights-and-decorations-once."
> 
> Featuring: Confident and very forward Eliott. Lucas who is going through a hard time. Or, as Idriss likes to put it: Rich pricks, good music, and weed.
> 
> This fic is part of the #skamholidayevent on Tumblr, very loosely based on Day 2's theme: Traditions. The premise of this fic is inspired by one of my favourite songs called _Miss Mysterious_ by Set It Off. Highly recommend checking it out if you haven't, it's fantastic. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading! Writing this has made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
> 
> If you enjoy reading to music, check out the playlist I made for this fic.  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2BzrP9S7OL3Uaw7EavhDKW?si=IDnOQFEZSj6nkBhsSAyblw
> 
> Merry Christmas!

****

**Part I — Étoile**

_Careless words filled the air with lies and deceit, a world which ran on broken promises and dreams. In stolen time, the seconds ticked by for naught. No change and no movement—a stagnate line, a sharpened sword._

✶

A crystal sky held the glimmering moon in the palm of its hands, paving the way for a black car that travelled along an empty road. Mud clung to the tyres, leaving a wet trail of that day's winter in its midst. On another occasion, it would have been perfect for a midnight cruise or a long walk by the beach. With no one around except for the sounds of soft waves as they crashed against feet, senses filled with the smell of seaweed and rainfall.

The car swerved, narrowly missing a pothole, it realigned itself, then chugged on further in haste, breath heavy from exhaustion. All signs of life bled away from the rear-view mirror as broken lamp posts lined the road, forcing the flickering yellow of the headlights to lead the way.

It was the perfect night, indeed, the beginning of an end.

The stereo blared. It was so loud it vibrated the seats, but Lucas hadn't heard a thing. He turned the dial, and the music climbed higher. The blood rushed through his veins, the pedal flat to the floor. Waves of water beat the ground in his wake, and the windscreen wipers failed to catch up with him.

His phone vibrated in his pocket for the umpteenth time, another call, and someone else to ignore. Lucas bit down on his lip until it bled; he swallowed away the urge to scream with the foul taste of metal in his mouth. He was sick and tired of listening to fake shows of sympathy.

 _I'm sorry,_ and _it will get better,_ and _I know how you feel._

Fuck them for trying to understand what Lucas was going through. Fuck them all for even caring.

Lucas stopped at the end of the road and turned off the car. The headlights flickered once, twice, until everything around him became shrouded in darkness. He tried to adjust to the surrounding shadows; the chain of looming trees and black blades of grass. The sudden silence consumed him, nothing but static and stillness that drowned him in his seat. He reached for the phone in his pocket.

13 messages and 7 missed calls.

His phone rang. Lucas sucked in a heavy breath, and as he released everything pent up within him, he brought the phone to his ear.

“I'm not your means for a midnight booty call, Arthur. I thought you knew me better than that.”

On the other line, the voice was softer than he expected. “Hey, is everything alright?”

Manon.

Of course, everything was _not_ alright.

“Perfect. Sorry I missed your calls.”

“Listen, we understand you need your space, but it’s not healthy. You can't keep leaving in the middle of the night, disappear for days, and never call. We're worried about you.”

His hand tightened around the steering wheel, nails digging creases into the soft leather. Droplets of water cascaded down the window, Lucas followed along as each trail appeared and disappeared on the glass.

“You’re wearing yourselves thin by worrying over nothing. I’ve got a lot of music to write, deadlines approaching, and I just need some time.”

There was silence for a while, and Lucas almost hung up before Manon spoke again. Her voice sounded muffled as if she had her head cradled in her hands. “We care about you, Lucas. Please don’t forget that.”

“I know,” he whispered into the quiet. He had already hung up his phone.

Lucas made his way out of the car and into the open clearing. With only the light of his phone to guide him, he stepped into the mouth of the woods. He walked through the same winding trail he had many times before. His footsteps carved into the bark below, fingerprints painted on every tree trunk.

He wrapped his blue jacket around himself as he reached a small cabin in the deep throes of the woods. Old trees and overgrown shrubbery blanketed the entire exterior, Lucas ducked his head and waded through the weeds until he reached the door. It didn’t look like much from the outside, but it had an unexplainable pull. Quaint and cosy, a lonely refuge that was sometimes more comforting than the stifling business of the flatshare.

The first time Lucas stumbled across the cabin, thick layers of dust and cobwebs covered the place from floor to ceiling. The stairs were broken, and it reeked of damp mould. Fixing it had become a side project, he spent all his free time coming here. It was cathartic, focusing his mind on something other than the dwindling money in his bank account or watching as his dreams collapsed around him.

From underneath the rubble emerged a beautiful place he had kept as a secret. A place that was entirely his, and a chance to escape the prying eyes whenever it became too much. A chance to just be _Lucas Lallemant,_ not _Étoile._ Not the alias he hid behind because he was too afraid to show the world who he was.

Because Lucas feared failure, and _Étoile_ could never fail when he didn’t exist. No one knew the face behind the name. No one knew his struggles, his tears, and his happiness. They learned a story through his words and pieced together a life through his music. But the world did not know Lucas Lallemant. And he was perfectly fine with that.

Lucas opened the door, and the familiar smell of fresh pinewood and vanilla wafted through the air. His pain washed away, left to hang and dry on the porch outside. He missed this; he missed the comfort of this place. Christmas was always an awful time for Lucas, and no one seemed to understand that he needed time alone. In this cabin, though, he didn’t _need_ to be understood.

The cabin didn’t ask him useless questions like _what’s wrong_ and _are you okay?_ It didn’t solve all his problems by telling him there were worse things in the world. Instead, it was there for him whenever he wanted to escape. Sometimes, that was all he needed to feel better.

He walked up the stairs into the lounge room and lit the fireplace with leftover wood from his last visit. Nothing had changed since then—as if just yesterday he was sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, and watching a movie. Open books covered the coffee table, pillows were strewn messily on the floor.

It was as if time had frozen; where months had not passed, and Lucas was still living in ignorant bliss.

The old piano stood innocently at the back of the room, the most beautiful instrument he had ever seen. Made from solid mahogany wood and grand in its elegance. It was the only thing kept in almost perfect condition when he first discovered this place.

Lucas sat on the stool and ran his fingers along the top of the piano. He brushed away stripes of dust, and his heart sank as he thought about how he had left this place last time.

The piano was well worn and had scratches and dents of age. Lucas liked to think the marks came from years of it being played—of someone creating beautiful music—not years of disuse and abandonment. He continued to follow the lines of the wood, and right there, hidden underneath the lid, was the engraving.

_Étoile polaire._

It was a reference to the _Tale of Two Mysteries,_ it had to be. The story that for as long as he could remember, enraptured the world. His mother used to read it to him every night before he went to bed. Whenever he was alone and scared, she’d look at him and remind him of the last line of the story. Her eyes would harden, and her arms would cross until Lucas smiled and recited the line with her. 

_And thus they wait for another time to rise, for that of Polaris was always meant to shine._

He traced his finger along each letter, it looked to be carved into the wood by hand. A messy scrawl, almost as if done as an afterthought. A quick scratch, only to never be thought of again. Or maybe the person who did it had a similar memory to Lucas, maybe their mother told the story to them whenever they needed comfort. Perhaps this _Étoile polaire_ became more than just a phrase in a story to them.

For Lucas, though, this messy engraving meant everything. It was the beginning, and it was also the end. This piano started his career, his life. Gave him a purpose he did not have before. Back all those years ago when he hated the world, and his life was crumbling before his very eyes. His father had just left him and his mum. Abandoned them. She was sick and deteriorating because everything Lucas ever loved managed to leave him.

And so, on that night, Lucas drove, and drove, and drove until he found himself in the woods. Amongst all the dust, debris, and the ruin of the cabin, the piano had stood tall and proud. At that very moment, he wrote his first song, and through all the pain, the hatred, and the hurting— _Étoile_ was born. And thus, the mystery began.

The mystery that, in the end, had broken Lucas more than he could ever imagine.

Who was _Étoile?_ Who was the man behind the music?

Lucas never understood the internet's obsession with discovering his identity, not until one night.

One night. When the thought had crept into the corners of his mind. He was lying awake, watching the last flickering of flames in the fireplace. All he could see was the messy scrawl on the beautiful mahogany piano, and he wondered.

What was the mystery behind this cabin? What was its story?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been so cathartic to write. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it.
> 
> Look out for part II which will come out tomorrow! xx


	2. Polaris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Polaris, the North Star, is famously known for staying almost completely motionless as the entirety of the stars in the northern sky move around it.

****

**Part II — Polaris**

_One born in riches has more and nothing at all, another has none but twice as more. How did affluence turn to influence when those with wealth are not free? They are strangers shrouded in darkness, a perfect reflection underneath._

✶

 _Mysterious Musician,_ Étoile, _is back after months of silence, but not by his own hand._

That was the headline Lucas woke up to the next morning. His eyes were still blurry from sleep, his mind barely awake as the sun inched its way up the sky. 

It was plastered all over the internet. Everywhere he looked, strangers were picking his life apart. Breaking his words piece by piece until he had nothing left to keep for himself. Lucas had always wanted to share his music with the people who seemed to care. But there were some songs—some things—that weren’t meant for anybody else.

This wasn’t the first time it had happened, either. All the rumours, the headlines, strangers speculating about his life. All those prying eyes that tried to dig into his heart. Who found just about anything to hold against him. 

A song. A phrase. A word. 

It started innocent enough; Mysterious Musician is from France. Mysterious Musician has blue eyes. Mysterious Musician is eighteen years old. 

Mysterious Musician has no family.

Lucas fled after that rumour began to circle the internet. He wanted nothing more than for _Étoile_ to disappear, for the world to forget his name. The one thing that gave him purpose, an escape, had withered him down to an inhumane shell. Broke him entirely. 

The worst part was that it was all true, he had no family. His bastard of a father couldn’t bear to be with his own flesh and blood, and his mother—his beautiful mum—couldn’t even remember who he was anymore.

He had planned to leave without a trace, never to step foot into the spotlight again. At the time of all the rumours, he was in the middle of writing a song. It had sat there for months, abandoned and collecting dust on his computer. Unfinished and unwanted. 

But Lucas proved the world right. He was weak, and afraid, and fled when things became too tough. Just like he had done the night before. He left Manon in the dark because he couldn’t handle the thought that somebody cared.

Lucas rubbed the sleep from his eyes and clicked on another article. 

_The Tale of Two Mysteries has come to life with the rise of another Mysterious Musician._

The article was the same as the first he read, displaying the lyrics to the last song he had been writing; before everything turned to shit. As if the rumours about his private life weren’t enough, someone had gone the extra mile and leaked his unfinished lyrics. 

While he was writing it, the song didn’t have a title. He wasn’t even sure if it was worth producing. All he had was a rough draft of a verse and chorus, and a shitty demo he recorded in one take. That too was posted on every article, and as it made its rounds on the internet, the people had given his song a name. 

_Mister Mysterious._

He didn’t know how to feel about it. The world wanted to connect everything to the _Tale of Two Mysteries,_ maybe it had something to do with the time of year. Christmas brought out everybody’s nostalgia, and from nostalgia came the tale they were all taught as children. But just because his identity was a mystery, did not mean that he was suddenly one half of the story. People believed things that they wanted to see; the world was funny like that. 

Lucas exited the article without finishing it. He shouldn’t have given these websites his attention in the first place. With a long, drawn-out sigh, he got out of bed and wrapped his raincoat around him. He rushed out of the door without even a second glance at the mahogany piano in the corner of the living room. 

Outside, it was bucketing down, and even with Lucas’ hood over his head, his hair was dripping wet streaks all down his neck. He made his way towards his car, the grass soggy beneath his feet. There was a strip of shops not too far from the cabin where he always got his morning coffee. The barista there knew him by name, and he made sure to pay him a visit every time he came down to the cabin. 

Idriss once told him that if he found out that Lucas had come without visiting him, Idriss would make sure he would regret it. He had that look in his eye which warned Lucas that he was only slightly joking. But knowing Idriss, it was _not_ worth the risk. 

He pulled up in front of the small café and saw Idriss through the window. He sat on the counter; his head glued to his phone. 

“Is it hard work sitting on your arse?” Lucas said as he walked inside. The warmth from the heater blanketed his body, and he shivered from the abrupt temperature change. 

Idriss looked up with a smirk on his face. “What can I say, they pay me for my devilish good looks, not the coffee.”

He jumped down from the counter and clapped Lucas hard on the shoulder. He ruffled his hair, and Lucas swatted his hand away, glaring up at him. 

“It's been ages, Lucas. You left without saying goodbye. I thought you went off and died or something.”

“Clearly, you weren't mourning much for my loss.”

Idriss laughed as he began to make Lucas his usual coffee. Humming absently while he worked. 

“How've you been, then, if you weren't crying over my absence?”

“An old friend’s come back into town, they’re crashing at my place with me and Imane until they get their place all set up.” 

Lucas reached over the counter and took a biscuit from the jar. Idriss glared at him as he made a mess of crumbs on the table. Lucas shrugged his shoulders, hiding a smile in his biscuit. 

“I vaguely remember Imane mentioning a rich prick coming to live with you. Don’t know how you find them down here.”

“Watch your tone, young man, he’s a good friend. He may be a bastard but not because he's rich.” Idriss handed his coffee over and took only five dollars from his hand. He gave Lucas a wink as he put it in the cash register. “Now, off you go, I’ve got work to do. Next time, give me a call before you decide to run off for months.”

Lucas lifted his cup of coffee in a toast. “No promises,” he said, a bashful smile on his lips. 

He was almost out of the door when he heard Idriss’ voice call out from behind him. “You should stop by the record shop before you leave.” 

“And what am I gonna do there?”

Idriss shrugged his shoulders. “Rich pricks, good music, and weed. That’ll get you in the Christmas spirit.” 

✶ 

The record shop was only a few blocks away from the café. The rain had ebbed to a soft drizzle, so Lucas decided to walk the rest of the way. He quite liked the cold. He enjoyed walking along the empty streets, watching the frenzy of cars fly by.

The door to the shop chimed, and the smell of leather and old parchment wafted through the room. Christmas lights lined all the shelves, painting the shop in an array of rainbow. Rows of vinyl and vintage books filled the shop. It was too cluttered and busy, but it had a certain charm to it. The last time Lucas had been in here, it looked nothing like it did now. It used to be run by a lovely older couple, Sylvian and Marie, before managing the shop became too much for them to handle. The doors to the shop remained boarded for years, and Lucas always felt a pang of sadness in his chest every time he saw it. The lights shut off, dust piling over what once was a place of happiness. Lucas had no idea someone had bought it and renovated the shop. 

There were pictures messily pinned in a collage on the back wall. It was all artwork and drawings. Many of the pages were curled and lifted, barely clinging to the wall. 

“The drawings aren’t for sale, if you were wondering.” A voice came from behind his back. 

He turned around to face a man, not too much older than himself, towering over him. The man’s voice wasn’t very deep, but goddamn it sounded like velvet to Lucas’ ears. The guy smiled, he had a boyish lilt to his lips, and Lucas fought to keep his hands stationed in his pockets. 

“Shame, really. I think the black-eyed rats would be a great hit.”

“They’re _racoons,_ if you must know, and they aren’t for sale.”

Lucas raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Duly noted. So, I take it you work here, then.” 

“I own it, actually.”

He whistled. “That wouldn’t have been cheap. Especially for someone who barely looks like they’re out of school.”

“Two years. And where I’m from, strangers don’t usually open conversations with the amount of money in their bank account.”

Lucas eyed the man up and down. He wore a crisp, tailored shirt, and dress pants. A brown, vintage jacket around his shoulders. Lucas shrugged. “You seem like the kind of guy to brag about that stuff, anyway.”

The man took his hand out of his pocket and put it between them. “Eliott Demaury."

Lucas raised his eyebrows, his eyes flicked between the outstretched hand and the man’s face.

“Well, maybe if you got to know me, you’d know I’m nothing like that.” 

He shook Eliott’s hand with a slight nod of his head before he walked towards one of the nearby shelves. He flipped through the vinyl records and heard a flurry of footsteps following him. 

“Isn’t this the part where I get your name?” Eliott said as he leaned his back against the shelf, eyeing the _Queen_ vinyl in Lucas’ hands. 

“Maybe where I’m from, that’s not how it works.”

“What am I supposed to call you, then?”

“Get creative.”

Lucas made his way towards the front door, his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket.

“Mister Mysterious,” Eliott said from inside the shop.

He stood frozen; the colour completely drained from his face. “Excuse me?”

“It’s a song,” Eliott shrugged his shoulders. “But it seems to fit you well.”

“It’s half a song at best, recorded on a shitty iPhone. As someone who sells music for a living, I’d think you’d know that.” 

Eliott was silent for a moment, just staring at him. “Didn’t you hear? The song is completed.” 

The door chimed as it shut. 

✶ 

Lucas rushed through the cabin, shrugged off his jacket and threw it over the arm of the couch. He took the stairs two at a time, barrelling towards the piano. He googled _Mister Mysterious_ on his laptop and was taken to a YouTube video that had over a million views. 

His voice filtered through the speakers on a black screen, along with the familiar chords he hadn’t played for months. It was strange, listening to such a raw and vulnerable recording of himself when he knew that millions of others had heard it too. Lucas wasn’t used to that sort of openness. Before, he had full control over what he posted. He could record, record, and record until he got the perfect take. As he listened to this, though, he was more stripped bare than he had ever felt before. It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

The chorus ended, and just as he was about to click off the video, another voice started singing with the soft strum of a guitar. He didn’t recognise the lyrics, nor the voice, but his heart thudded in his chest as he listened to the low timbre. 

Someone had written another verse, and they were singing it. Someone cared enough about his little song—even after he had disappeared for months—to continue it. 

The chorus hit, and now he heard himself and the unknown voice singing together, and he finally understood. _This_ was why the internet called his song _Mister Mysterious,_ not just because of the lyrics he wrote, but for this mysterious man who continued his song. 

To the world, these were two strangers. Strangers who unintentionally came together for the music. A stranger who somehow brought _Étoile_ back to life. 

The music ended, and Lucas was left reeling, bereft of breath. The words were stuck in his throat. He was feeling so much, it was as if he were completely numb. He looked at the description of the video, and what was written made his heart stop. 

To _Étoile,_ from _Polaris._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Don't be shy to say hi. 
> 
> Part III will be up tomorrow xx


	3. Étoile and Polaris, Binary Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Binary Star is a star system consisting of two stars that orbit around each other. These stars can often appear as one point of light to the unaided eye but are in a constant orbit. The star system of Polaris consists of Polaris A, the brightest star in its constellation, and Polaris B, which is smaller, and much older than its counterpart. It is approximated that it takes about 30 years for Polaris B to make a full circuit of Polaris A. 
> 
> (Scientists have recently discovered another star which orbits Polaris, creatively called Polaris Ab. But that one doesn’t help us that much in our story.)

**Part III — Étoile and Polaris, Binary Stars**

_They live like the ebb and flow of the sea, polarities, always so close but never to meet. In one daring moment, which changes the course of fate, the two mysteries step out from the shadows and into the blaze._

✶

 _Polaris. Polaris. Polaris._

The name wouldn’t leave Lucas’ mind. A repetitive mantra that whispered in his ear when the world was silent. Before he went to bed when the haze of his mind began to edge away into the warm arms of sleep. In the early hours of the morning when his thoughts were nothing but a pliable breath. 

It also became a shout over the loud hustle and bustle of the Christmas season. While Lucas walked along the streets with the soft snow dusting the pavement, the name drowned out the sweet carolers. The car horns. The idle chatter. The laughing children around him. 

_Polaris. Polaris. Polaris._

Lucas could not stop. He had always been a thinker; he inherited that trait from his mother. It was a curse and a blessing; but during these moments, Lucas couldn’t tell the difference.

He had listened to _Polaris’_ version of _Mister Mysterious_ more times than he could count, it became an obsession. An innate addiction that would only subside after he had his fix. And then another, and another, and another. 

_Polaris._

Of all names, why _Polaris?_ The logical side of Lucas’ mind understood that it was just another person enamoured with the _Tale of Two Mysteries._ ‘Tis the season for Christmas traditions, and all that. But there was something else, something that kept niggling away at his chest. Something which fed the compulsion to press repeat _one more time._

Lucas sat on the piano stool, staring down at the expanse of ivory keys beneath his fingertips. Yesterday he had sat in this very spot, feeling lost, alone and wrongfooted. He hadn’t known if he was ready to bring music back into his life. Yesterday, he had also sat on this stool and listened to the beautiful lull of _Polaris’_ voice for the very first time.

And today he sat there again, an exhilarated thrum surged through his veins. It was terrifying; he felt alive. Lucas inhaled, and the comforting scent of pinewood and vanilla eased the shaking in his bones. 

He pressed down on the familiar chords. His eyes shut as he let his fingers glide across the keys, and here he was home. Finally home, in a tight embrace as he found his way back to the music that lit his soul aflame. 

Lucas began to sing. 

_“Mister Mysterious, who are you?_

_Who's the guy behind those eyes? Just a stranger in disguise?”_

It was as if bright sparks of colour burst around him, a sea of glittering stars in a blackened sky. But there was only one thing that crossed his mind as he played. One thing that was worlds brighter. 

_Polaris. Polaris. Polaris._

_“Mister Mysterious, who could you be?”_

It was strange, singing somebody else’s lyrics to a song that meant so much to him. But it felt right. _Polaris’_ lyrics hit him in a way nothing else had as if this was always how the song was meant to be.

As if it was the universe who told him to wait, all those months ago. _Be patient, Lucas, for there is something better waiting for you._

And so, Lucas did not stop. After he finished singing, Lucas wrote a bridge to the song and added it to _Polaris’_ recording. With his heart beating in his chest, he posted the video to his YouTube channel, and in the description, he wrote:

 _Polaris,_ thank you for bringing me back home. 

From _Étoile._

✶ 

Lucas’ adrenaline was going haywire, he couldn’t sit still. A mixture of nerves and excitement and a strange tug of hope in his chest. There wasn’t enough air around him to breathe. He drummed his fingers atop the piano, an erratic, disjointed sound that echoed through the room. He refreshed the page, over and over again as if that would magically change something. Make _Polaris_ see it, or comment on it, or something. He had no idea what he wanted to happen from this. 

Lucas was being stupid. What the fuck was he doing? This wasn’t at all like him.

He ran his fingers through his hair, tugged at the tangles, and shut his laptop. He made his way downstairs and grabbed his jacket from the armrest of the couch. 

He was in desperate need of a long drive. 

It was a surprisingly warm day for the middle of winter. The sun was perched high in the sky, and a soft breeze tousled the leaves on the trees. Lucas had his window down as he drove a loop around the woods. He couldn’t help but hum along to the senseless tunes on the radio. He took a sharp turn and veered off on the main road. Christmas trees lined the nature strip, and the outside of houses was decorated in full Christmas scenes. He passed one home that had a life-sized, blow-up Grinch on their front lawn. Lucas smiled at that one, if he still decorated his house for Christmas, he wouldn’t have minded a Grinch theme.

He turned the dial as the chorus of _Don’t Stop Believin’_ filtered through his speakers. The music blared. It vibrated the seats. 

_“Strangers waiting, up and down the boulevard.”_

Lucas screamed the lyrics at the top of his lungs, not caring who heard him. 

_“Hiding somewhere in the night.”_

He sounded terrible and off-key and completely butchered the lyrics. His throat hurt from shouting, but it felt _fucking fantastic._

And then, he found himself parked right in front of the record shop. 

“Oh, don’t stop singing on my account. You seemed to be enjoying yourself.” Eliott walked over to the car and leaned on the window, a joint to his lips. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”

Lucas shrugged his shoulders. “Neither did I.”

“Was it a record that you wanted? ‘Cause the shop is closed.”

“Why is it closed?”

Eliott took the joint from his mouth and waved it in front of Lucas’ face. “I’m on lunch break if you couldn’t already tell.” He smiled that annoying boyish grin. “But I can make an exception for you.”

“You don’t even know who I am,” he said, but he turned off the car and opened the door all the same. 

They walked side by side into the record shop. Lucas couldn't help but notice that Eliott wore that same brown jacket, but this time with a pair of black, ripped jeans. He looked every part the rich prick trying to appear casual. Lucas was pressed to think that it suited him. 

“Maybe this is all a ploy to figure that out,” Eliott said. 

“I’m not telling you my name.”

“Well, are you gonna storm out again if I call you Mister Mysterious?”

“We all gotta cut our losses sometimes.” 

Eliott led him down a flight of stairs that was hidden behind the counter. It opened up to a basement of sorts. Low-lit and full of exposed brick. Christmas lights were hung around the walls, it cast the room in bursts of bright colours. Couches and bean bags were squashed in one corner, and a large TV was mounted on the wall. Vinyl records were everywhere, lined on shelves and stacked in piles on the floor.

Lucas whistled. “Is this where you’ve come to kidnap me?”

“You’re a strange man, aren’t you?”

“A stranger, more like. And I’m not the one who brought some rando to a creepy, underground basement.” 

Eliott just laughed. 

Lucas walked around the room. He had a recording set-up in one corner, a keyboard, guitar and a microphone were all stationed next to a computer. Lucas ran his fingers down the ivory keys.

“Can you play?”

Lucas hummed, “A little.” He turned around to face Eliott. He was leaning on the armrest of the couch, just watching him. “So, is all of this just for show, or can _you_ actually play?”

“Yeah, I do prefer the guitar, though.”

“Go on, then. Play me something.”

Eliott raised his eyebrows as he walked over and grabbed the guitar from behind Lucas. He sat cross-legged on the floor, his back against the couch. Lucas followed him. The joint still hung from Eliott’s lips, and Lucas leaned over and plucked it away. He brought it to his mouth and breathed in the smoke. 

“If you wanted one so bad, you could’ve asked.”

Lucas blew the smoke in Eliott’s face. “You’ve taken me to some dingy den. I think me stealing your weed is the least of your concerns.” 

Eliott began to strum, then. A familiar tune. Lucas rolled his eyes. “You’re a fucking arsehole.” 

_“Just a small-town girl, livin' in a lonely world. She took the midnight train goin' anywhere.”_

Lucas’ next retort was stuck in his throat as he heard Eliott sing. Because _of course,_ the fucking beautiful man had to have an equally beautiful voice. The rich were just born carved from gold with all the talent and all the looks. It was truly unfair. 

_“Just a city boy, born and raised in south Detroit. He took the midnight train goin' anywhere.”_

When Eliott began the pre-chorus, Lucas sang the harmony with him. 

_“Strangers waitin', up and down the boulevard. Their shadows searchin' in the night.”_

Eliott’s eyes widened, he flicked between his guitar and Lucas. He stumbled on a chord, and the guitar made an ugly buzzing sound. Eliott stopped strumming.

“Sorry,” he laughed, a small, nervous chuckle. “I—ah—I didn’t expect that. You sound fa— You just have a really pretty voice.” 

Lucas looked down at his lap, toying with his hands. “Thank you, so do you.”

Eliott began plucking the strings, but this time it was a different song. Lucas’ heart thudded in his chest when he recognised it. 

_Mister Mysterious._

But Eliott didn’t sing, he just stared at him as he continued plucking the guitar. 

“Why aren’t you singing?” Lucas whispered. 

“Because I want _you_ to.” 

“How do you know if I even know the lyrics?” He was still plucking. 

“Intuition.” 

Eliott began to strum the chords of the chorus, and Lucas sang. 

_“I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right. Or let me know when your heart went numb.”_

This time, Eliott didn’t stop. He stared at Lucas as he sang, and Lucas stared right back. He was about to stop singing after the chorus, but Eliott began to pluck again. And so, Lucas sang _Polaris’_ lyrics for the first time. 

_“Mister Mysterious, may I ask, is your sunshine like my rain? Is your pleasure like my pain?”_

Lucas sang the rest of the song while Eliott played the guitar. And neither of them could keep their eyes off each other. When the last note floated through the air, Eliott put his guitar down beside him, a silence stretched between them. 

He reached into his pocket and brought out a lighter and another joint. Eliott took a long drag, his eyes shut on the exhale. He passed it over to Lucas who did the same; in, out. The smoke danced through the air, intertwining with the bright colours of the Christmas lights. Swirls of blue, red and purple glistened in the dim room.

“Lucas.”

Eliott turned his head towards him, expelling the smoke—a soft blue in the light. “I’m sorry?”

Without the warmth of the joint between his lips or the guise of singing, Lucas felt naked under Eliott’s stare. He eased the tension in his back and placed his hands in his pockets. The last remnants of the dancing smoke flickered until nothing but golden flecks appeared in its place.

“My name. It’s Lucas Lallemant.” 

_“Lucas,”_ Eliott repeated as if it were a foreign word. A whispered secret only for the two of them to hear. “It’s you, isn’t it? You’re _Étoile,_ the Mysterious Musician.”

Lucas looked away and didn’t say anything.

“Hey.” Eliott touched his chin, bringing his face towards him. “I promise you, I won’t tell anyone.”

“I appreciate that.” 

Eliott moved away, drumming his fingers on his knees. He looked embarrassed. “Were you upset? About someone writing over your song?”

“Initially, I was angry that my song was leaked. Writing is very personal to me—vulnerable, even. It felt like everyone was seeing straight through my heart, and it was terrifying.”

“I get it,” Eliott whispered. “But what you wrote to _Polaris,_ about them bringing you back home. What did you mean by that?”

Lucas didn’t respond for a while; he mulled the answer over in his mind. Time seemed to stretch on and disappear in a blink. He stared up at the lights as they flicked from blue to red to purple. The room smelled of weed and pinewood, and Lucas couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of comfort in Eliott’s presence.

“At that time, there was a lot in my life going wrong, it was an amalgamation of things—not just the rumours—that made me leave the internet. I never expected to finish the song, let alone sing again.” 

Lucas reached over and grabbed the guitar next to Eliott. He softly strummed a senseless tune to do something with his fidgeting hands. 

“And then, I decided to come back to the area on a whim. Something happened at home and I just needed to get away. This place… It’s where _Étoile_ began, and where it ended. It was strange to come back. But then, I heard _Polaris’_ recording and it was like this huge switch went off. _Polaris_ inspired me to write music again. _Polaris_ fulfilled a part of me that I thought I lost.” 

Eliott brought a hand up to the neck of the guitar, stopping Lucas’ erratic strumming. “You don’t need to be afraid of vulnerability, Lucas. There is beauty in opening your heart up to the right person.”

Lucas licked his lips. They were dry and cracked and stung from the number of times he bit them. “How do I know who that is?”

“Intuition,” Eliott whispered. 

And then he kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well. Things are happening, lots of fluff! Where's the angst, you may ask? Let's just say I'm terribly sorry for part IV. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, don't be shy to say hi! xx


	4. Étoile Polaire, Blue Straggler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Binary Stars that orbit so close together and share the same atmosphere may eventually collide. When these two stars slowly merge, they can create a new, brighter star called a Blue Straggler. Stellar collision is a rarity. Astrologists predict that an event such as this may occur only once every 10,000 years. 
> 
> There is one theory, however, said to be quite unlikely, but not impossible. Where several million years ago, Polaris was two stars who collided together and became the North Star we see today.

**Part IV — _Étoile_ _Polaire,_ Blue Straggler**

_The world turns now, for the two sides have collided. But the clock resets, and in the rubble of smoke, the two mysteries are divided…_

✶

The world was spinning.

Round and round; a cacophony of flashing lights and an endless hum in his ears. Lucas’ eyes were shut so tight, a world of stars erupted in his vision. The lights flashed. Blue, red and purple. 

All he could smell was weed and pinewood. It took over his senses like a drug, and he moved into it, intertwining himself with the scent. Closer, and closer, until the stars disappeared and the only thought that crossed his mind was pinewood. 

The warm touch of lips grounded him as his senses went on overdrive. A soft breath and a nervous shudder. Cold fingers on the back of his neck as goosebumps alit a path down his skin. 

The lights flashed, his ears hummed, and the world spun. 

And then, nothingness as Eliott pulled away. The fleeting moment of motionlessness after the waves crash on the shore. The stillness after the raging fire burns to coal.

It was strange, kissing a stranger. A stolen intimacy shared between two mysteries. As if in a matter of minutes Eliott had already unlocked all of Lucas’ secrets. Or perhaps the number of minutes they knew each other didn’t matter. 

Perhaps kissing a stranger forged its own time. Where the running sand in the hourglass would stop and wait for them, only to start again after the break of lips. And thus, they were back to being just strangers. 

They sat in the middle of the room, no longer kissing, just frozen against each other. Lucas’ arms were wrapped around Eliott’s neck. His hands threaded through his hazelnut hair. Eliott cupped his face, his fingers drummed a pattern on his cheek. And it was intimate, it was so intimate. 

The guitar was left forgotten beside them, a string broken. Lucas didn’t know how that happened. 

Eliott breathed heavily. He could feel every rise and fall of his chest, every stutter, every extra beat of his heart. And still, they were frozen in each other’s arms.

“I’m wary of you, you know?” Lucas whispered, barely breaking the silence that enveloped them. 

“What are you wary about?”

“Everything… You… This… I don’t _do_ this.”

“Then why didn’t you stop?” Eliott’s nose bumped into his. He spoke so softly Lucas couldn’t help but edge a little closer. He felt Eliott’s words ghost against his mouth. He was a drug of pinewood and liquid lips.

They were so close. It was so intimate.

“I don’t know.”

“Well then, you have nothing to worry about if you don’t know.”

Lucas laughed, shaking his head. Their noses rubbed together from the movement. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Some of the best things in life never do.”

He could feel Eliott smile before he saw it. The crooked slope of his grin, his eyes crinkled around the edges. He looked like he had no care in the world; no troubles that weighed on his chest. No thoughts. No reservations. He looked like a child. 

“You’re a strange man, Eliott.” 

“A stranger, as you’ve said. But maybe that’s just because you haven’t gotten to know me. Perhaps then, we wouldn’t be so strange.”

Lucas was just about to say something. About to tell Eliott that no matter how much he knew a person, they always became a stranger in the end. He stumbled on his words, his phone vibrated in his pocket, and the calm stillness of the moment shattered. 

He jumped, pulling away from Eliott as he reached for his phone. The air was cold while he wasn’t wrapped in Eliott’s warmth. Lucas had to remind himself that he liked the cold. 

3 missed calls and 1 voicemail. 

Manon.

“Lucas? Hey, look I—I just wanted to apologise for the other day. I know it’s been hard lately, and I don’t wanna control you. You need time to find yourself again, I get that. Call me back when you’re ready, okay? And whatever happened on the internet today, just know that we’re all here for you. Home will _always_ be right here waiting for you.” 

Lucas bit down on his lip and blood bubbled through the cracks. He swallowed away the lump in his throat. His head was fuzzy, but there was one thing that rang clear in his mind. It repeated over and over and over; a scratched record stuck on a loop.

 _Whatever happened on the internet today, just know that we’re all here for you._ Whatever Happened. Whatever happened. Whatever happened. 

Manon never knew the true identity of _Étoile._ Manon never knew he posted his music on the internet. 

He whirled around to Eliott who was still sitting on the floor. Lucas pulled at his hair, scraping his fingers through the tangles. “I’m leaving,” he said abruptly. He grabbed his jacket from the floor and rushed up the stairs into the main area of the record shop. 

Eliott was hot on his heels, calling after him. “Lucas, wait! What’s going on?”

“I can’t—I just need to go.”

Lucas made his way to the front door without glancing back at Eliott. His hands were shaking and it all felt like an ugly sense of deja vu looming over him. 

_Whatever Happened. Whatever happened. Whatever happened._

“Hold on, Lucas—just _stop_.” Eliott grabbed hold of his arm as Lucas began to open the door. His grip was strong, his nails dug into his skin. Lucas tried to pull away but Eliott tugged on his arm and he fell into his chest.

Eliott licked his lips and closed his eyes for a brief moment. His voice was soft when he spoke again. “Why are you always running away?”

He stepped out of Eliott’s warmth, the door handle prodded his spine, and Eliott held his arm that little bit tighter. He didn’t break eye contact as he stared up into steel-blue eyes. “Because sometimes fear holds us back. But then, there is that one moment, that _one second_ where it protects us from falling apart.”

The door chimed as it shut.

✶

Inside the cabin was frozen; there was no more wood left to start a fire, and he couldn’t be bothered to get more. Lucas shivered as the chill washed over him. It seeped into his skin until all Eliott’s warmth disappeared as if it were never there in the first place. But it was perfectly fine, Lucas liked the cold. Everything was perfect. 

He wrapped the jacket around himself, all he could smell was weed and pinewood. And leather and old parchment. And _Eliott._

The jacket was brown.

Lucas walked through the dark and silent cabin, barren of any Christmas lights. The blue, red and purple that coloured Eliott’s shop in bright swirls of rainbow flashed before his eyes. The peace and quiet of the cabin, once a source of comfort, turned void, and empty and lifeless. His footsteps echoed against the wooden floor as he trekked the familiar path to the mahogany piano. Lucas turned on his laptop, and the video he posted that morning was still open. It had 4 million views.

 _Polaris_ hadn’t commented, but many strangers did. It wasn’t the same. 

Manon’s voicemail continued to churn in his head. He didn’t know what was better; to delay the inevitable and live in a false pretence of ignorance. Or to throw himself in the deep end when he knew he couldn’t swim. 

Lucas already had his answer before he clicked off the video and searched the name _Étoile_ on Google. He opened the first article, and he was drowning. Drowning in a bottomless ocean with nothing to keep him afloat. 

Because there it was, plastered on the very headline of the article. 

_Mysterious Musician,_ Étoile, _is no longer the world’s greatest mystery._

 _Lucas Lallemant, an 18-year-old boy from France is the face behind the internet’s most covert musician. Now that the mystery is finally solved, the only question left,_ _what was there to hide?_

The world was spinning. He couldn’t breathe. His lungs were punctured with a burning sensation that ripped its way down his chest. His hands shook.

The world knew Lucas Lallemant. They saw straight through his life. They knew his struggles, his tears, and his happiness. They knew the face behind the name.

_The world knew Lucas Lallemant._

He clenched his hands into a fist, and his nails tore at the sensitive skin of his palm. His knuckles cracked as he punched the mahogany wood. The sound of ivory keys clanging together drowned out the rush of water in his ears. Blood gushed from Lucas’ knuckles, and he cradled his hand to his chest. 

Drops of his blood seeped into the grooves of the engraving on the piano, painting it red. 

The very thing that started it all. The thing that built him up brick by brick, only to crush him down again. He wanted to scream, and so he did. A loud, curdling shout that eased the tension in his bones. He was numb. 

A bitter chill slithered over his skin in the strained silence after his screams. He wound Eliott’s jacket tightly around himself to stop from shivering. It swallowed his body, but it was nothing like the warmth he felt while wrapped in Eliott’s arms.

Lucas fucking _hated_ the cold. 

He plunged his hands into the pockets of the jacket and his fingers touched cold metal. He pulled it out and toyed the object between his fingers. It was a key. An elaborate gold key with a neat, swirling script on the blade. He ran his fingers along the smooth surface and traced the familiar letters he had done many times before. 

_Étoile polaire._

His breath completely escaped him as he stared between the key in his hand and the piano. For years he had wondered, lying awake in the early hours of the morning. 

What was the mystery behind this cabin? This place he called home. What was its story?

But it couldn’t be, it was impossible. Eliott could not have been the one to own this cabin, it was too much of a coincidence. The world didn’t work that way. But still, even as he thought this, Lucas found himself walking to his bedroom and opening the door to his wardrobe.

There was only one other thing besides the piano that survived the ruin of the cabin. One thing that Lucas kept safe on the bottom of his wardrobe, and never dared to pry open. 

Lucas pulled out a dusty wooden box, chipped and weathered from age. The sensitive skin on his knuckles burned from the movement. He grimaced as he ran his fingers down the edge of the box, the touch foreign. Lucas hadn’t thought much about it over the years he stayed at the cabin. He never found a key, so he left the box underneath a pile of his clothes and didn't look at it again.

His brain was a dizzying whirlpool of thoughts and words, but he still couldn't convince himself that this was an invasion of privacy. He slotted the key into the lock. It fitted perfectly and made a soft click as it unlocked. Lucas opened the lid, and inside of the box was a handwritten copy of _The Tale of Two Mysteries._ The paper was creased and had a bunch of small drawings along the margins. An array of stars and flowers. And raccoons. 

Lucas stared at the familiar words his mother used to whisper to him every single night. She would lay beside him in the dark, gazing up at the glittering stars through his bedroom window. “Never be afraid, my son.” Her fingers would run through his hair, coaxing him to sleep. “Whatever happens in this lifetime or the next, I’ll always be here. Even when things get so tough and you feel there is nowhere left to run, just look up at the sky, Lucas. _For that of Polaris was always meant to shine.”_

Lucas wiped away streaks of wet tears with his blood-soaked hand, his heart lodged high in his throat. He carefully folded the piece of paper and put it in his pocket, clenching his hands to stop them from shaking. 

More drawings were piled in the box, some were bright and painted with brilliant splashes of colour. Some were rough and messy with black ink dripping everywhere, and others were just unfinished. Lucas picked up a collection of old photographs and flipped through them.

A little boy with messy hair and a large toothy grin smiled up at him in the picture. The boy couldn’t be any older than six years old, he had chocolate stains all over his mouth and dried blue paint on his fingertips. The next picture was of the same boy, a few years older. He sat in front of the mahogany piano, it looked giant underneath his tiny hands. A couple was standing on either side of the boy, looking at him with adoring smiles on their faces. It was Sylvian and Marie. The old owners of the record shop. 

In the last picture, the boy was a teenager. Messy hazelnut hair. A gorgeous, sloped grin. And piercing steel-blue eyes. It was unmistakably Eliott. Idriss stood by his side, his arm wrapped around Eliott’s shoulders. 

Lucas had no idea how he missed it before. The scent that was so familiar, it was woven in every crevice of the cabin. The same calming smell of the record shop. And as he cocooned himself into the warm arms of the brown jacket, it was right there too.

Pinewood; the smell of Eliott. Everything around him smelled of Eliott. 

The stranger that had unknowingly been hidden in the shadows, just out of reach. The guy that in a matter of moments, turned his entire world on its axis. 

Lucas took the photo of Eliott at the piano with Sylvian and Marie and put it in his pocket. He closed the lid of the box and locked it once more. 

What could have happened for Eliott to leave this place? Abandon it, and let it crumble to ruin? Only to come back again, and not care to see what had become of the cabin in his absence? 

If it wasn’t so important to him, why would he still keep the key to a box that was long gone?

And of course, Lucas just had to get himself involved in all of this, too. 

✶

In the week that followed, Lucas kept to himself. He ordered takeaway food and refused to leave the confines of the cabin unless strictly necessary. Idriss tried to call and left a message asking him if he needed anything. 

Lucas texted him a day later, _I’m fine,_ he wrote. 

Manon hadn’t tried to contact him again after her voicemail, and Lucas didn’t reach out. He didn’t bother to go back to the record shop, and _Polaris_ still hadn’t commented on his video. Meanwhile, the rest of the world was in a frenzy. His social media blew up, and all his music had reached over 5 million views. Everywhere he looked, there he was. 

Lucas Lallemant. Lucas Lallemant. Lucas Lallemant.

He was a show dog on display, for the world to gawk and gape at. He hated it. He hated every moment of it. But as the days and nights passed with Lucas cooped up in the cold, lonely walls of the cabin, he grew tired. Tired of being beaten, of letting the person who discovered his identity win. 

He was sitting outside in front of the cabin, overgrown weeds and shrubbery cushioned the hard ground. He stared up at the large expanse of black sky and watched as the blue stars swam in its depths. The handwritten _Tale of Two Mysteries_ sat on his lap, and he felt the soft graphite marks of Eliott’s drawings on the pads of his fingers. 

Lucas did not want to be overpowered anymore. He refused to let himself wither and crumble under the confines of his own bitterness. Most of all, though, he refused to be afraid. Afraid of being hurt by the people he loved; afraid of choosing to stay instead of running away. 

If there was one thing his mum taught him, before all of this began—was that he could not change the past, nor could he control the future. He stared up at the twinkling eyes of the sky and whispered into the silence of the night. “I love you, mum. I’m sorry it took me this long to remember what you always told me.” 

Lucas walked through the halls of the cabin and packed the little belongings he had. He pulled _The Tale of Two Mysteries_ from his pocket, and on the back, he wrote a message. 

_I know none of this was your fault, Eliott, and I’m sorry for running out on you again. I hope one day we can be more than just strangers._

He folded it up, placed it in the pocket of Eliott’s jacket with the gold key, and went back to the record shop. He hung the jacket on the door handle, and took off again, hoping that Eliott would find it in the morning. 

And so, Lucas drove. He drove, and drove, and drove along an empty road as the flickering yellow of his headlights led the way. Small signs of life began to filter in through the rear-view mirror. Suburban houses. Families walking down the street. Children playing in the park. 

In the early hours of the morning, he pulled up in front of a tall apartment building. The halls were dark and silent as he walked up the stairs to the front door. He opened it with his key and made his way to the lounge room. The low sounds of the TV murmured, casting the room in soft shades of blue. Manon sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket.

“You’re up early,” he whispered as he sat beside her, reaching for the warmth underneath the blanket. He rested his head atop her shoulder, and her cheek was nestled into his hair. 

“Couldn't sleep,” she whispered.

They fell into a comfortable silence, just watching the credits roll on an unknown Christmas movie. A soft instrumental song played in the background. 

“I'm sorry for disappearing on you.” 

“There's no need to apologise, Lucas.”

“I've been doing a lot of thinking these past few weeks.”

“That's new.”

Lucas rolled his eyes and smiled into her shoulder. “I'm going to go visit my mum today.”

Manon said nothing for a while, she grabbed Lucas' hand from underneath the blanket and squeezed it. The credits continued to roll passed.

“I'm proud of you.”

“There's not much to be proud of; avoiding visiting your own mum.”

“Maybe. But you're here now, that's the main thing.”

Manon turned the TV off, and the room was blanketed in darkness. He waited in the silence with bated breath, staring at Manon’s outline from his peripheral. 

“So, _Étoile_ and _Polaris,_ huh?” she finally said, a smile in her voice.

Lucas hummed. “I’m sorry for that too. For keeping it from you.”

“Oh Lucas,” she sighed, “I always knew it was you. You can’t keep a secret to save your life. Don’t you remember Arthur’s birthday party? Basile was pissed at you for weeks.”

Lucas’ heart fluttered with affection. Here, at this moment, with the sun barely peeking over the buildings, and in the calming silence as they said nothing and everything—was his home. He didn’t know why it took him so long to realise; home was with the people he loved. 

✶

Everything was white; the concrete walls, the tiled floors, and the doctors walking up and down the halls. The air was damp and smelled of pain and eucalyptus. Lucas hated coming here, the strong smells and the blinding whiteness made him feel sick to his stomach. 

Cécile sat at the administration desk like she always did. Upon seeing him, she gave him a wide smile. “Lucas! It’s been a while, dear. It’s nice to see you.” She grabbed his hand in hers, her grip suffocating. 

Lucas’ smile was small and sad. “Yes, it has.” 

“Not to worry, love. She’s right where she usually is.” She patted his hand; they were soft and cold in his. Lucas nodded his head in thanks and made his way into his mother’s room.

The first thing he noticed as he closed the door was the smell. Sugary marshmallows roasting on a log fire. The smell of nostalgia; the smell of his childhood. The one thing that had stayed the same amongst all the change, the last recognisable thing about his mother. Lucas found himself craving this smell. He craved all it represented; a life he missed, and a childhood cut short as his mother became locked away in this place. 

He sat in his usual seat, close but not close enough to feel his mother’s warmth. “Hello,” he murmured. 

“Hello,” she looked him over for a moment. “You’re a very good-looking young man, what are you doing over here?”

“I came to see a beautiful lady.”

She laughed, and Lucas wanted nothing more than to give her a big hug and a kiss. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt her arms wrapped tightly around him. 

“I’m sorry it’s been so long, I wanted to come, I really did— it’s just hard to see you like this, you know? But a lot of things have happened in these last few months, I can’t even begin to explain it all.” He stopped and sighed into his hands. “This time of year has always been hard for us—for me… Our last Christmas together, when you thought I was dad, and you kept crying in my arms saying that you were so glad I finally came back home. That’s all I can ever think about.”

His mum gave him a troubled expression, she reached out and touched the back of his hand. It was so warm and familiar. Sugary marshmallows roasting on a log fire. 

“Do I know you, dear?”

Lucas choked back the tears as he shook his head. He held her hand with all his lifeforce. “No, you don’t.” 

“I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before,” she clicked her fingers. “Yes, Cécile puts you on the TV all the time. I could never forget the face of such a handsome young man.”

Lucas closed his eyes as the tears spilled down his face. “I have something to show you,” he said as he untangled their hands. He walked towards the wardrobe and grabbed the guitar he kept in there. He sat back down next to her and began strumming. 

“I met a boy,” he said as he strummed the familiar chords he played every time he visited her. He cleared his throat, and his voice came out like broken glass. “I haven’t known him for long, but there’s just something about him. Something that makes me feel like I’m not alone.”

He began singing the song his mum wrote for him when he was a child. 

_“I’ve been alone surrounded by darkness, and I’ve seen how heartless the world can be. I've seen you crying, you felt like it's hopeless. I'll always do my best to make you see...”_

He watched a smile light up his mum’s face; a recognition that was so rare, it painted her features in glittering gold. She looked like the woman who let him cry on her shoulder. The woman who would coax him to sleep after a nightmare, her soft voice lulling in the shadows of his mind. She looked gorgeous. 

She began to sing with him. 

_“Baby, you're not alone, ‘cause you're here with me. And nothing's ever gonna bring us down ‘cause nothing can keep me from lovin' you, and you know it's true. It don't matter what'll come to be, our love is all we need to make it through.”_

It was warmth, and sugary marshmallows roasting on a log fire. It was nostalgia, and it was his childhood. But most of all, it was love. 

Unconditional and unforgettable love.

✶ 

The next day, he sat in front of his small keyboard on top of his desk. It was the first keyboard he had ever played on. It still had the written letters on each key, back when his mother taught him how to play his first song. He vividly remembered opening the present for Christmas and being so excited to be _just like mummy!_

His mother used to patiently sit with him for hours as he poked away on each key, discovering all the sounds. She gave him the wettest kiss on the cheek when he played his first chord. And then, when he was much older, the first song they ever played together was _Not Alone._ It was their song, and his heart would soar with so much love every time he heard his mother’s beautiful voice singing it. 

Lucas’ laptop was open in front of him. He pressed record on his webcam and smiled shyly at the camera. “Hi,” he said and laughed at himself awkwardly. “So, this is different... But I wanted to come on here and do something for myself for once.”

He played an arpeggio on the keyboard, and let the last note fade out. 

“I’ll be honest, the circumstances of me being on camera aren’t great. I hid my identity not for any horrible reason, but because I wasn’t _ready_ for the world to suddenly see my life through my eyes. Maybe you don’t get it, and that’s fine, but a lot of my music is very personal to me, and I was happy that people could connect to it without knowing the one who was struggling behind it.”

“But there’s someone who I met recently who said something that I won’t forget; you don’t need to be afraid of vulnerability because there’s beauty in opening up your heart. So, to the real _Mister Mysterious,_ I’m sorry for running away, but I’m not afraid anymore. This is for you.”

He played the first chord, about to start singing. “Oh, and before I forget, I’d like to wish the person who leaked my identity a Merry Christmas and a big _fuck you.”_

Lucas smiled at the camera, and began to sing his mother’s song. On the description of the video, he wrote:

_To anyone who has ever felt stranded and alone. And to the stranger who I am yet to get to know. You will always find your way back home._

_From Lucas._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out I had such a fun time writing, it became longer than I thought!
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter, I'll post the last one in the next couple of days.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Don't be shy to say hi! Xx


	5. Lucas and Eliott, Aurora Borealis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aurora Borealis, otherwise known as the Northern Lights or Polar Lights, is a natural light display in the Earth's sky. It is characterised by the appearance of streamers of red, pink and green light.

**Part V — _Lucas_ and _Eliott,_ Aurora Borealis**

_And thus they wait for another time to rise, for that of Polaris was always meant to shine._

✶

The soft rays of the sun whispered over the pavement. Lucas leaned his back against a tree on the nature strip, watching the rain drizzle around him. He plucked absently at the strings of his guitar, inhaling the scent of freshly cut lawn and rainfall. For a moment, it reminded him of the woods outside the cabin; thick blades of grass and the chain of trees that he could get lost in. The world was silent, save for the pitter-patter of the rain and the hum of his guitar. It was early Christmas morning, and Lucas could imagine the sleepy thud of footsteps as children bumbled down the halls to see what presents Santa got for them. 

To be young and ignorant; with no care in the world. 

It was the first time in a few years Lucas wasn’t spending Christmas next to the heat of the fire in the cabin. Where he would do everything in his power to forget about the troubles in his life. To numb the chaos in his mind with the soothing piano keys beneath his fingertips. Every year, his friends would call him one by one; Manon asking if he had eaten, Arthur offering to drive 8 hours to give him a joint. Despite not knowing where the cabin even was. 

Yann would also call, only to spend hours complaining about his failing classes, but Lucas didn’t mind. He was never alone on Christmas, and Lucas’ friends didn’t pressure him to come back home. It was a routine Lucas had become comfortable with, a tick off the checklist. But now he sat in front of the flatshare, underneath the wilting leaves of the trees. Far as he could be from the cabin.

Yet, it wasn’t unease or discontent that he felt as he let his thoughts run away with his guitar melody. The bright colours of a rainbow arched over him, and Lucas breathed it in. The light of the sun and the coldness of the rain, that was how he felt, bittersweet. A junction between two polar opposites. He missed the cabin in the same way one relived childhood memories: from a distance, watching a favourite movie out of focus. 

The sound of footsteps hitting pavement broke his reverie, and Lucas turned around to see Imane walking up to him.

“I didn’t know you were here, I thought you were still with Idriss.”

She sat shoulder to shoulder with him underneath the tree. They watched the cars fly by, bright headlights cut through the cloudy, winter’s morning.

“There was too much Testosterone in one small house, and Eliott’s gone and taken my room.” 

“Oh,” Lucas whispered. Steel-blue eyes, a sloped grin, and a brown jacket flashed before his mind. The unwavering stare as they sat frozen in the silent aftermath. Waves crashing to the shore, fire burning to coal. 

Imane studied Lucas, and he was instantly transported back to the first day they met. As if one glance was all she needed to figure him all out, and her accuracy even then, made him nervous.

“Go on then, what are you hiding?” 

He shook his head, but a small smile betrayed him. “I met him. At that old record shop not far from the cabin. He owns it now.”

Imane raised her eyebrows and bumped their elbows together. “So, it _was_ you, then. The mystery man Eliott won’t shut up about.”

Lucas stopped strumming the guitar so abruptly the vibrating string scraped against a blister. “I’m sorry?”

Imane shrugged her shoulders, a smile on her lips. “It’s not my place to say.”

“Do you know much about him? Why is he suddenly here? I’ve been going to the cabin for what—five years now, and I’ve never seen him around. Idriss never mentioned him, he was never at the shop with Sylvian and Marie, and suddenly—” Lucas snapped his fingers, “—he’s everywhere as if he had always been.”

“Didn’t you start going to the cabin to escape? Sometimes people just need to disappear for a while. Reinvent themselves.” 

Lucas nodded his head. “He seems… Interesting.”

“And yet, for the first time in years, you’re here and not the cabin.”

“I never expected for things to turn out like this.”

“Eliott’s never really been an open book, to be honest, I don’t even think Idriss knows everything about him, and they’ve been friends for longer than I can remember.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and tore his eyes away from the street to stare at Imane. It felt like they were having two different conversations. “What are you getting at?”

“You have plenty of time to get to know him, Lucas, but you’re doing neither of yourselves any favours by sitting here. If you want something, you take it; _to_ _Eliott, from Lucas.”_

Imane stood up and patted his shoulder, and Lucas didn’t have time to ask her what she meant before she walked back into the flatshare. He was left alone, sitting cross-legged on the grass, and he squinted up at the sky. 

Blue, red and purple. The smell of weed and pinewood. Cold fingers on the back of his neck. 

Perhaps, Lucas didn’t mind the cold as long as it was Eliott running goosebumps along his skin. That thought alone shook Lucas to his core. It mixed with the adrenaline and fear deep-set in his chest. And again, he was reminded of the polarity of it all, excitement and wariness. Familiarity and the unknown.

 _Étoile_ and _Polaris,_ reflections of the same idea. A mask to hide behind, and a means of self-protection. Only for Lucas to finally step out from the shadows but be left alone. One half of an incomplete story as he waited with outstretched hands for something he couldn’t explain.

A connection. A collision. 

But polarities never did collide, they pushed and pulled like the ebb and flow of the ocean. Close, but never to meet, a breath and a whisper apart. 

He couldn’t shake Imane’s words that echoed in his mind. 

To _Eliott,_ from _Lucas._

As if those words meant more than Imane was letting on. As if Lucas missed the other pair of outstretched hands in front of him, waiting for the moment they could collide.

“Hi, ah—sorry to disturb you. Do you mind if I sit here?”

Lucas blinked away the blurry spots from his vision after staring at the sky for too long. He turned around to see a boy, possibly a bit younger than him, staring at the empty spot underneath the tree. Lucas shrugged his shoulders and muttered an absent, “Sure” as he watched the kid from the corner of his eye. 

He wore nothing but a flannelette shirt and a red snapback that did nothing for the bitter wind that was picking up speed. The boy shivered and Lucas didn’t comment on his poor choice of attire. 

“I think what you’ve been doing is really inspiring.” He had an accent Lucas couldn’t place and spoke so softly and slurred his words as if he hadn’t meant to speak them aloud. 

Lucas snapped his head towards him, unsure of how to respond to that. 

“I’ve been dealing with my own _Polaris._ A big change, something new and different, and so _fucking_ terrifying. But against all my better judgement, all I wanna do is jump in the deep end.”

“I didn’t do anything, though. Instead of jumping into the deep end—as you so put it, I ran into the shadows. What’s inspiring about that?”

“Isn’t that the point? You ran headfirst into the dark, right into the unknown without knowing what would come of it. Someone thought they could break you down by leaking your music and revealing your identity, and in response you stood your ground. You told the entire world to fuck off because this is _Lucas_ now, not _Étoile.”_

Lucas laughed despite himself. “What of _Polaris,_ then, in this far-fetched story of yours?”

“Maybe he wants more out of this, maybe he wants to meet you in the middle. Maybe he’s still afraid to shed his mask.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Hasn’t it ever crossed your mind how coincidental this all is? _Étoile_ and _Polaris,_ the North Star… Does it mean anything to you?”

“ _Yes,”_ Lucas whispered as if the entire weight of the world eased from his shoulders. In one moment of clarity, a once blurry memory turned crystal clear. The last puzzle piece finally found and set into place, where it was always meant to be. 

How Lucas missed it before, so unbearably and glaringly obvious, he had no idea. He was too preoccupied with his problems; his mum, and his music and his selfishness that he completely missed what was right in front of him.

Lucas reached into his pocket and pulled out a photograph. He flattened the creases along the edges and stared at a young Eliott playing the keys of his mahogany piano. _Their_ mahogany piano. And right there it was, underneath the lid. 

_Étoile Polaire._

The engraving in the picture looked new, Lucas could still see small wood chips fill the grooves of the familiar letters. The messy scrawl, almost as if done as an afterthought. 

Or as if done by a child. 

Those two words that started it all, for not only Lucas but Eliott, too. 

“Is that you?” Lucas startled, completely forgetting the presence of the boy who sat next to him. 

Lucas stood up and brushed away the dirt and grass from his jeans. He looked down at the boy and shook his head. “Thanks kid, you’ve been more help than you can imagine. I hope that thing with your _Polaris_ works out for you. The unknown might be scary, but take the dive, you never know what or who you may find waiting there, too.”

“My name’s Isak.”

Lucas smiled. “See you around, Isak. Seems like we’re more similar than I thought.”

✶ 

The sky was alight in swirls of purple and orange as the sun dipped below the trees in the woods. Lucas sat in his car for a moment, basking in the familiar sights around him, the way this place was a constant amongst the world of change. The solid ground under Lucas’ feet as he teetered on the precipice of something new. Something he was tired of waiting for, that he wanted to take for himself. This was the good kind of selfish, Lucas thought. For years, he had come to the cabin to escape. Escape his life. Escape the world. Escape himself. But this time it was different, it was Lucas reaching his hands out, hoping against all odds to be met in the middle. 

He strung himself for hours along an empty road on nothing but a whim. An intuition. 

But if there was one thing that Eliott taught him in their brief time together, it was that intuitions were meant to be followed. They were a choice one made in a split second, an unsuspecting moment that could change a life. 

The car door shut with finality, it echoed against the path of trees and shrubbery as he made his way to the cabin. And it was at that moment as he walked up the stairs, Lucas realised Eliott chose intuition too. The first thing he saw was a brown jacket strewn messily on the armrest of the couch. Lucas picked it up and breathed in the intoxicating smell of pinewood. He shivered as he wrapped the jacket around himself, a mere whisper away from Eliott’s warmth. 

The cabin was dark, the lights shut off, so he walked through the halls on memory alone. He stood silently in the entryway of the lounge. He stared at a shadowed back, sat frozen on the piano stool. 

He inched his way closer until he could feel Eliott’s heat again. He stood over his shoulder and stared down at the ivory keys. “So, what was the meaning behind _Polaris_ in the first place?” Lucas whispered into the darkness.

Eliott turned to face him, his eyes wide. His features were cast in shadow, but Lucas could feel Eliott’s heavy gaze follow his every movement as he sat beside him on the piano stool. Their sides were flush together, he could feel Eliott’s thigh brush against his, the warmth thrummed through his veins. 

“From a young child I always had such a fascination with the universe; the expanse and depth of it. How every single night we see such a miniscule part of its size, and yet we know next to nothing about all its mysteries. It’s like the ocean, unexplored, and filled with children’s wildest dreams and imagination.”

Lucas couldn’t keep his eyes off him as Eliott stared into oblivion. Lost in his words, in the picture he created of a young, carefree child, curious of all the wonders the world held. Lucas wished he could have met this version of Eliott, one who felt no need to hide behind a mask. 

“And then there’s the North Star. A constant stability amongst all the disarray. The mess, and the chaos. _Polaris_ is also a reminder, despite how life is full of loss and death and impermanence, there is one thing that shines above all the darkness… _Love,_ Lucas, is always permanent, and just like the star, it’ll bring you back home.”

“Have you ever found that love?”

Eliott shrugged his shoulders. “Once. But it wasn’t who I needed.”

“Who did you need?”

“Someone who can accept all of me, for my flaws and my impulsiveness. When I feel like I’m on top of the world, and when everything is crashing down on me.”

“Do you think you’ll find that person?” 

Lucas played a broken chord, and the sound hummed in the air between them. It was a dare; a question awaiting an answer. He received one in the form of Eliott’s hands almost touching his as he played the adjacent chord. 

The beginning of _Mister Mysterious._

“It’s still too early to tell, but I think I already have.”

His heart thudded in his chest, an irregular staccato beat that pulsed through every nerve in his body. He swallowed thickly and tried to untwine the knots in his insides. He played the next few chords of the song, and they alternated like that. A call and response. 

“I’m impulsive, too. I get angry, and jealous, and sometimes I say the wrong things. But I came back here because I wanted to see you again. Why are you here?”

“Is it strange to say that I missed you?”

Their hands danced across the piano keys, the melody like an anchor between them. It felt right to be beside Eliott, to feel his elbows and his ribs and thighs align with his. It was foreign and strange in the best of ways. Lucas could get used to Eliott. He could get used to his smell, and his warmth, and the way he smiled when he didn’t know what to say. 

“I don’t think it’s strange at all,” Lucas whispered.

He leaned in and pressed his lips against Elliot’s, feeling the soft shape of them under his tongue. The polarity; the familiar with the unknown. The bright ribbons of colour that swirled around them in the darkness of the room. Lucas pulled Elliot down into him, their noses crushed together, he laughed and bit Eliott’s lip. 

_“Polaris,”_ Lucas mumbled into Eliott’s mouth.

 _“Étoile,”_ he whispered right back. 

Lucas lay atop of the piano stool, Eliott leaned over him with his arms on either side of his head. It was too hard to see, but Lucas lifted his head and inched ever so closer, just to catch a glimpse of steel-blue eyes. 

“You’re wearing my jacket.” 

Lucas ran his hands down Eliott’s bare arms. His skin was cold, and he could feel every single hair on his arm raised. “I would offer to give it back, but it probably looks better on me.”

Eliott laughed. “Has anyone ever said that you’ve got a bit of a mouth on you?”

“No. But how are we to test that theory out if you’re all the way up there and I’m down here?”

This time, when they crashed into each other, neither of them wanted to let go. And so they didn’t. The piano was completely forgotten under the sweet melody of their lips and the beating of their hearts. They kissed in the silence, in the echo of the _Mister Mysterious_ chords. The song that brought them together and connected them like the sides of the same coin. It was their song, just as the mahogany piano was theirs as well. Lucas grabbed Eliott’s hand and entwined their fingers. He ran their joined hand along the divots and grooves of the wood, along those familiar letters. The simple engraving that came to mean so much more than either of them could have ever imagined. 

It was the beginning of a story, a fable. Not one passed through the generations like _The Tale of Two Mysteries,_ but a different one. A private story for just the two of them to tell. It opened with a boy who was lost and afraid, who reached out his hands into empty air. It ended in the dark with the clasp of hands, and a promise for many more beginnings. Neither knew what would come of the future, and it didn’t matter, because in that very moment they were two halves of a complete story. 

No longer mysteries. No longer afraid. 

✶ 

_To Eliott,_

_Thank you for being my Polaris._

_Love from Lucas._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To reader,
> 
> So this is the end of this fic, but if elu have taught us anything, it is that there are many more beginnings to come. Thank you so much for going along this little journey with me.
> 
> From J Amethyst 💜
> 
> ✶
> 
> I made a little 'TTOTM mood board' if anyone wants to see the mahogany piano or Eliott's little drawings. Here it is: https://itsjamethyst.tumblr.com/post/639070411541413888/the-tale-of-two-mysteries-by-jamethyst-lucas 
> 
> Also, I recently stumbled across these two posts from Maxence's second Instagram account which I hadn't even seen while writing this fic. They both translate to "Aurora Borealis" and one was even posted on Christmas eve. He seems to post a lot of pictures about them, and I just think it was so fitting for me to see after completing this story. And perhaps something a bit more than just a coincidence.  
>  https://www.instagram.com/p/CJJZALOAyyS/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link  
>  https://www.instagram.com/p/CJx4DR1g-Dz/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link
> 
> And while we're at it, find me on tumblr at itsjamethyst.tumblr.com


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